


A world about to dawn

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: I'm sure you'll be able to cope, M/M, Writing Prompt, coffee shop AU, except in the context that coffee shops were major hubs of revolutionary sentiment in the 1700s, so this is more of a Les Amis In A Coffeeshop AU, spoilers for Angel of Brahma, though in modern times?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: Juno doesn't care about the crazy political types who hold their meetings in his coffee shop. They can do whatever they want as long as they leave him out of it. But there's that one-- the tall, slender one with a smile like a fox. He might be worth paying attention to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by ForTheLoveAndSanityOfBuckyBarnes, who requested a coffee shop AU.
> 
> The title is a reference to The ABC Cafe from Les Miserables. Because reasons.

“Hey boss! Boss!” Rita hissed into the back room so loud they could probably hear her at the diner next door. “You know that guy? He’s back!”

Of course he was back. The table in the far corner had been staked out for the crew since the first day the coffee shop opened its doors. They were a rowdy bunch, political dissidents who didn’t know how to keep their voices down while they did their scheming, and there’d been more than a few fights over the past year and a half since they started showing up. If Juno had half the sense he was born with, he would’ve kicked them out ages ago. But so far their little revolution was more talk than action; they weren’t hurting anyone, and their caffeine habits were keeping the lights on.

Besides, there was that one.

He was young compared to the rest of the crowd, maybe Juno’s age, and he usually only ever showed up in the company of the older, owl-eyed man. The two were affectionate. Father and son, maybe? It was hard to tell with those two. The younger one didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was always with big dreams of big changes—bringing down tyrants and saving the little guy.

For the most part, Juno left the would-be revolutionaries to their own devices, but his eyes would stray to this one whenever he came in. He was tall, slender, with long clever fingers and a fox’s smile and an odd cologne that Juno could only ever register for an instant before it was drowned out by the aroma of coffee beans.

Practically the whole length of him was draped over the front counter, purring sweet nothings at Rita, who blushed and fidgeted with the screwdriver in her hands. Which didn’t bother Juno in the slightest. Nope. No reason at all to feel jealous of his barista. Not at all.

Juno cleared his throat, and then cleared it again. The third time, Rita actually noticed him.

“What?” She snapped out of it with a giggle. “Oh, Mister Steel, look who’s back!” She threw out one hand to reveal the young revolutionary, as if he wasn’t standing right there.

“I can see that,” Juno said flatly. “Rita, weren’t you supposed to be fixing the coffee grinder?”

“What? Oh, that? I already figured out what’s wrong with it. See, the panel is just like the layout of the office in the new Kanagawa show—have you seen it? There’s this—”

Juno cut her off at the pass. “Have you fixed it yet?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then get on that. Come on, Rita. What do I pay you for?”

He meant it with love. For all Rita’s quirks, she was the best mechanic in town by a mile. All of this shitty second-hand equipment wouldn’t have made it a month without her expertise. She was capable of anything, as long as he could keep her focused long enough to actually do it.

Juno hesitated before turning back to the front counter, half expecting the young revolutionary to have vanished. He did that sometimes—Juno might glance at an opening door or pull a cup of milk away from the steamer, and when he looked up again, the revolutionary would be gone. Some days Juno wondered if the other man existed at all, or if he was just a particularly handsome hallucination.

But he was here now, perfectly solid and close enough that Juno could smell his cologne. He was still draped over the counter like he might climb over and...

Juno didn’t let himself finish the thought.

The revolutionary fixed his gaze on him, looking amused. Juno was struck by the sudden urge to say something witty and eloquent and entertaining, just to keep that gaze on him a little longer.

Instead he reached for the other man’s favorite mug. “So what’ll it be today?”

The mug was the only thing consistent about the revolutionary’s orders. One day he’d order a peanut butter pumpkin chai; another he’d pull up a triple shot of double-brewed espresso; another, apple cider so loaded with spices that it was practically a paste. But his orders were always interesting, always particular, and always memorable. Making them was a challenge on its own, and watching the revolutionary’s face light up when he got it right was more of a reward than the tip he always left behind. Today the drink was a lavender London fog, accented with drizzles of honey that overflowed the foam and stained the revolutionary’s long fingers.

“Sorry about that,” Juno said flatly. “Let me get you a napkin—”

“No need.” The other man raised his hand to his mouth and a knuckle disappeared between his lips. It was a normal reaction to that kind of a spill. There was absolutely nothing suggestive about the flash of tongue lapping up milk foam. The soft smack of his lips was completely ordinary and not at all obscene. And the dryness in Juno’s mouth had nothing to do with the look on the revolutionary’s face when he took that first experimental sip. He was just thirsty, was all. Maybe he’d give that London fog a try. Later.

The other man exhaled a long, luxurious breath over his latte. “Exquisite as always.”

“You know how to pick ‘em,” Juno rasped.

The revolutionary waved a long-fingered hand. “Ordering a fine drink means nothing if it can’t be properly crafted. I must say, I will miss your brews. I don’t suppose I’ll find more like these anywhere else.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I make a point not to stay in any place too long, I’m afraid. Once I take care of a few personal errands, I’ll be riding the cosmic breeze to the next town.”

“That’s… too bad.” If Juno felt disappointment, it was only at the prospect of losing a regular customer. “I’ll miss seeing you around.”

The revolutionary looked charmed. He leaned forward so heavily that Juno forgot there was still a counter between them. “How much do I owe you?”

Juno could taste lavender and bergamot on the other man’s breath, mixing with the scent of cologne so perfectly that it left him dizzy. Which is the only reason why he stuttered. “Y-you know what? It’s on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”

Juno stepped back, getting slightly more clarity with distance. “Call it a going-away present.”

“Well, if you insist,” the revolutionary sighed, then pulled out a handful of bills.

“I said—”

“You wouldn’t expect me to enjoy such a cup and not leave a tip, would you?” he asked, pretending affront. “I would be scandalized!” He snatched up the pen that Juno kept handy for cred receipts and scrawled a quick note on one of the bills.

“Is that…” a phone number? Was the revolutionary actually leaving his number? Juno leaned forward to get a closer look, but the revolutionary snatched it away with a flourish.

“Just a tip,” he said with a sly smile, then he carefully folded the handful of bills over and tucked them into the tip jar before returning to sit with the rest of his group.

Juno tried not to stare. He tried to swallow, but his tongue felt thick and sandpaper dry.

As soon as the revolutionary’s back was turned, he snatched the defaced bill from the tip jar, ready to memorize the phone number.

Except it wasn’t a phone number.

_Juno,_

_The world is at a precipice, and tonight it will finally breach the tipping point and give way to a new order. The change will be one for the better, but you may not want to be at the epicenter when it happens. I suggest you and your dear friend go on a long drive tonight. No matter what happens, don’t come back before morning._

_No matter how necessary these events may be, I would hate for anything to happen to you._

_Stay safe,  
Peter Nureyev_

Juno looked up, a cold chill running down his spine. His eyes tracked immediately to the table of revolutionaries, but their crowd was two men smaller than it had been a moment before.

Where Peter Nureyev had been a moment ago there was only an empty cup, still sticky with foam.


End file.
